


Medical Marvels

by just_another_classic



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 15:59:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6015313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_another_classic/pseuds/just_another_classic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four times Emma introduced Killian to modern medicine, and the one time she didn't need to. (Alternatively titled: Killian watches Grey's Anatomy, and other hijinks)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Medical Marvels

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Valentine's Day to my CSSV, sunshine-and-the-catsuit! I hope you enjoyed the CS happiness!

**One**

Everything hurt.

 

Especially his head. Most especially his head.

 

As he buried himself deeper into his pillow, Killian attempted to disentangle his memories from the night prior to pinpoint what exactly had gone wrong to lead him to feeling this way. He was no stranger to hangovers, mind you, but as of late he had made attempts to reign in his more raucous drinking habits in an effort to prove to Emma just how much he wanted to stay on the straight and narrow.

 

Not that he was a teetotaler either. His flask of rum was always on his person, and he never shied away from imbibing a pint or two of ale with dinner, but he hadn’t been partaking in alcohol quite like he did prior to Emma storming into his life – except for last night.

 

He could clearly remember Emma in a fetching red dress taking his hand and pulling him into the Rabbit Hole with a promise to show him one of the many wonders of the realm. Killian recalled telling her that there was little that could surprise him in terms of alcohol, but then she had quirked her eyebrow and smiled in a way that promised pleasure and pain and he was goner.

 

Clearly a goner, were he to judge by the thrum in his head and blurred memory.

 

He groaned and he rolled onto his back in a forced attempt to begin his day, possibly drag himself out of bed to hunt down to find out just what exactly he had consumed the night prior. He froze, however, when his stunted arm brushed against something else quite warm and solid. Or rather, someone else.

 

Killian slowly opened his eyes, and winced at the sudden onslaught of light to see Emma Swan propped next him, almost as if she had been watching him sleep. He paused momentarily, and took the sight in. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, the previous night’s makeup slightly smudged around her eyes. His heart practically leaped out of his chest when she noticed she was wearing his shirt.

 

It took a few seconds for his mind to catch up to the sudden realization that Emma was in his bed wearing his shirt, and a slight shift of her leg against his indicated that she wasn’t wearing any sort of pant. Under almost any other circumstance, this would be an occasion worth celebrating. However, considering they had yet to take that next physical step in their relationship combined with the fact that he had no clear memory of the past few hours, he felt a slight wave a dread.

 

As if reading his mind, Emma quickly provided an answer to his unasked question. “No worries, nothing worth remembering happened last night.”

 

“Everything with you is worth remembering, Swan,” Killian countered, pleased with the way her cheeks colored at his compliment. Still, if he didn’t take her in his drunken state, Killian couldn’t understand her reasoning for being here. “Not that I don’t enjoy waking up next to your lovely self, why are you in my bed?”

 

“You were so wasted, and I was worried you would pull a Hendrix a choke on your own vomit in your sleep. Rockstar as it is, I figured you’d want a flashier way to die, something more dashing like a sword fight or something,” Emma answered with a shrug.

 

Though Killian couldn’t recognize the reference she was clearly making, he felt a bloom of warmth in his chest at the admission of her affections. Though she said those words with a teasing lilt, he could tell that deep down, she may have been truly worried for his well-being. He felt slight guilt at that, being the cause for worry, but he couldn’t deny taking slightly pleasure in the fact that she cared enough about him to stay the night. He was, after all, a selfish man – and a grateful one.

 

“Thank you for staying, love,” he said softly as he brought her fingers to his lips for a chaste kiss. She smiled at that, and the happiness that brewed inside him almost threatened to dissipate the cloud his hangover had looming over and inside his head. Almost. “I shan’t be thanking you for whatever bloody poison your gave me, though.”

 

Emma rolled her eyes at his dramatics. “It’s called tequila, Hook. You seemed to enjoy it quite a bit.”

 

“Whatever it is, I’m not enjoying it now.”

 

In response to his statement, Emma leaned over him, and her clothed breasts lightly rubbed against his bare chest. This time, he had to bite down a different sort of groan, one that had nothing to do with his pounding head and everything with the proximity of her body to his. When she pulled away, he sighed, and wished that he were in a much better physical state to show his affection.

 

“Here, try this,” she said as she brandished two small pills. “It’ll make you feel better. Eventually.”

 

Killian vaguely recognized the medicine. It looked similar to those that had been forced into him during his short stint in the Storybrooke hospital after the incident with the car, but he was still unsure of what exactly they accomplished. More often than not, the medical science of this realm reminded quite a bit of magic, though everyone from Emma to Dr. Whale claimed otherwise.

 

“Is this another sort of poison?”

 

“No, it’s aspirin. It’ll help with your headache,” Emma explained. She resumed stroking his hair with her free hand. It soothed him when Emma touched him like that. He reveled in the intimacy of that moment.

 

“I won’t need any of your pills if you keep touching me this way, love.”

 

She laughed at that, such a pretty sound. In all honestly, the loud noise did bother him a bit in his weakened state, but he would endure any slight discomfort to hear her laugh again.

 

“As much as I’d love to stay, I promised my parents I’d babysit later,” she explained. Emma then curled the pills into his own hand. “Just take them, okay? Trust me, they’ll help.”

 

He did.

 

They helped.

 

Emma was right.

 

(Like always.)

 

**Two**

“Swan, I don’t understand why I have do this.”

 

While Killian enjoyed the moments he and Emma shared in the three weeks since the Snow Queen’s defeat and the Crocodile’s exile, he didn’t quite revel in the fact that the quiet also provided Emma quite a bit of time to dwell on other topics – like all the potential issues that could arise outside of dastardly villains. Apparently, his coming down with a wide array deadly diseases was one of those topics, thus her announcing one morning at breakfast that he was to receive _vaccinations._

 

Originally he was on board with the idea. He would do anything to make her happy, or at the very least lessen her stress and anxiety, so he agreed readily.

 

Until he found out how vaccinations were applied, that is.

Killian had a long-standing life philosophy that he shouldn’t put anything in his body that simply didn’t belong there. That more or less applied only to strange potions, but he was willing to make exceptions for the stranger rituals of this realm – namely needles.

 

He never liked the things. During his first stint in Storybrooke’s hospital, he did everything possible to remove whatever sharp implements the nurses and doctors had stuck into his skin -- even if the _morphine_ , as they had called it, gave him a fuzzy feeling like he was flying. Despite the seeming wonderfulness of that drug, Killian knew that needles were best to be avoided.

 

Unfortunately, his Swan did not agree.

 

“I have no idea what immunities you may or may not have,” she explained to him in exasperation, “I don’t want you to end up getting smallpox or whatever and die a horrible painful death.”

 

“Like I told, love, I’m a survivor,” he reminded her. He kissed her, long and languid, and not without the ulterior motive to distract her from dragging him to the physician to stick needles in his person to prevent disease he would almost certainly not contract. After three centuries, he had a mighty fine constitution, thank you very much.

 

His plan didn’t work, because Emma manhandled him into her yellow vessel not a moment later.

 

“All I’m trying to do is ensure your survivor status. I’ve gotten my shots, Henry has them, so it’s not like I’m making you do something everyone else has done.” she said. It was clear that she was not going to relent as Killian had hoped. A stubborn woman, that Swan of his. “At least, I think everyone has been vaccinated. I’m pretty sure it was one of those built-in curse things.”

 

Killian sighed dramatically. “Maybe I should have gone along with Regina’s curse. Would save me the trouble of allowing myself to be willingly stabbed.”

 

“Yeah, but you would have been cursed for decades. I think the shots are better.”

 

“I would have met you sooner. That sounds worth it.” He meant it too – his wish to have fallen into her life sooner – anything to not have another moment away from her. Killian could practically see Emma melt as her eyes glassed over.

 

She leaned over to kiss him, the angle awkward in the vehicle. He quickly brought his up to cup her head, and made a move to deepen the kiss. This time, he had no underlying motive to this kiss. He only wanted to feel closer to her, let her know the depth of his love for her with the brush of his lips against her own.

 

Emma, however, didn’t see it that way.

 

“Uh-unh, sailor. Don’t think for a second your lips sweet-talking will get you out of this,” she teased as she broke his kiss.

 

And with that, she turned the key and started the ignition to lead Killian to his needle-induced doom.

 

**Three**

“Tell me, love, are the physicians of this realm always so…amorous…with their fellow crew?”

 

“As much as Whale wishes, nope. The world of _Grey’s Anatomy_ is as close to a hospital’s reality as Disney’s Captain Hook is to you,” Emma explained with a laugh as she leaned further into his embrace. “Now, shush, you’ll miss all the romantic melodrama.”

They day after they kissed in the aftermath of their time travel adventure, Emma invited him to join her at home to watch something called Netflix. He didn’t know what it was at the time, but Killian agreed because it meant spending more time with her. Little did he know that watching Netflix, and television in general, would become a staple pastime in their relationship.

 

During the first few fledgling months of their relationship, they primarily stuck to films deemed “classics” that he “absolutely needed to see” by both Emma and Henry. Back to the Future. Star Wars. Indiana Jones. (Killian had a hunch that Emma was drawn to that Harrison Ford fellow.) However, as their time together progressed onward, Emma slowly began to introduce him to the serial programs she enjoyed. He wasn’t a fan of every one, but he did enjoy the time he spent “marathoning” with her.

 

The latest endeavor was a medical drama known as _Grey’s Anatomy_. It was quite theatrical, with characters dying seemingly at random and the characters partaking into a never-ending carousel of bed-hopping, but Killian found himself immensely entertained by the show that Emma called her “guilty pleasure.” (Which was a lie, because he’d seen her “reality” television shows, which were really things for the realm to feel guilty about.)

 

“With all of these crises, I’m starting to believe that the hospital is located in Storybrooke,” Killian mused after sixth season finale. It had featured a madman storming through the hospital on a shooting spree, murdering a few residents and nearly successfully killing the man known as “McDreamy.”

 

“Seattle Grace Mercy Death!“ Emma chimed in after him. (Killian eventually caught onto her reference, thank you very much.)

 

It was true. An absurd number of misfortunes seemed to befall these characters, so much so that Storybrooke sometimes seemed liked paradise when compared to the fictional Seattle hospital. Because of this, Killian found himself sympathizing with the characters, understanding their motivations moreso than he would have otherwise. He was particularly drawn to Mark Sloan, sometimes nicknamed “McSteamy,” the objectively handsome surgeon who broke up a marriage for love, and would later have a second-chance life-affirming relationship with a different woman, one who made him strive to be better.

 

“They get together in the end, don’t they?” Killian asked Emma. “It would be a shame if the devilishly handsome surgeon didn’t win little Lady Grey.”

 

“You’ll see.” Emma replied, though her face was clouded with something he couldn’t quite place.

 

He understood later, much later, when one of their late-night marathon sessions had gotten them to the season 8 finale of the program. Little Lady Grey, Lexie, had previously announced her love for Mark Sloan, only to die tragically in a place crash. The absurdity of her death was lost on him, overshadowed by Mark begging her to stay alive with promises of their future.

 

_“I’ve always been in love with you. I’ll always be in love with you. Which is why you have to stay alive. We’re going to get married. You’ll be an amazing surgeon. We’ll have kids. We’re going to have the best life, you and me. You can’t die because we’re supposed to end up together. We’re meant to be.”*_

Emma promptly turned off the television after her death, the episode left unfinished.

 

“I had kind of forgotton how that went,” Emma said softly. Her cheeks were stained with tears that Killian knew had nothing to do with how the young doctor had died, but instead the memories her death scene had resurfaced. What was it that she had said? _“That’s not enough for me.”_ Much of his memory of what happened in the field of flowers was obscured by the fog of impending death, but Killian could still recall the pain at the thought of losing the future they had fought so hard to reach. That loss had hurt more than the wound in his neck.

 

“We have our future now,” Killian reminded her as he brought her left hand to his lips and placed a soft kiss on the engagement ring on her finger. “You saved it.”

 

“We almost lost it.”

 

“But we didn’t. We’re going to be married. You’re going to be an amazing…sheriff. And, if you so desire it, we’re going to have children. Just as the good doctor said, we’re going to have a good life, you and I.”

 

And Killian knew that to be true. Always and forever.

 

**Four**

Emma had a rough day. That much Killian could tell when returned home from an afternoon taking Henry sailing to see her curled up in a blanket on the sofa, open bottle of wine on the coffee table, watching the television with a frown. He didn’t recognize what television program she was watching. It certainly wasn’t _Grey’s Anatomy_.

 

“What’s on?” Killian inquired as he slid into bed to curl next to her.

 

“Bridalplasty,” she answered with a deep sigh. “It’s my way of reminding myself that this whole wedding planning thing could be worse. Much worse.”

 

As happy as Killian was to finally be marrying Emma Swan, the process of getting to the wedding had created more headaches than he was willing to admit. More often than once, she had come to him with the request to elope. He told her that he would, but she always took her request back, unwilling to deprive her family of some form of a royal wedding – even if it meant butting heads with her own mother over color palettes and floral arrangements.

 

“What does this show entail that makes our own wedding planning appear so sublime?” he asked before he bit her shoulder with the hope of distracting her in a more pleasurable way.

 

“Brides compete for plastic surgery before their wedding day. It’s kind of crazy, but at least I know my mother would never insist on that,” Emma answered as she closed her laptop to turn more fully into his embrace.

 

“Plastic…surgery?” Killian inquired, more confused than anything. He knew what the concept was. Emma’s medical drama had taught him as much, but judging from the scant images of the women competing on the show that he’d seen, they appeared to not have any life-threatening deformities. “Are they sick?”

 

“No, they just wanted to change themselves or rather, improve themselves before their wedding. So they could look fairy-tale perfect,” Emma attempted to explain. “Many people get elective plastic surgery to fix a crooked nose, get rid of wrinkles, make their boobs bigger.”

 

Killian was quiet for a moment. “Swan, you know I love your body the way it is, yes?”

 

Emma pressed herself up against him in response, “Don’t worry, I don’t want plastic surgery for the wedding…but, I’m might need a reminder of how much you do like my body. Just in case.”

 

With a growl, Killian flipped her under him, and pulled her lips into a bruising kiss.

 

“As my lady commands it.”

 

And show her, he did.

 

**Five**

 

“So you might not know what it is at first, but it’s good. I promise,” Emma said as she all but shoved a small, intricately wrapped box into his lap. “It’s non-refundable, so you better like it.”

 

They were sitting on the couch, bodies angled toward on another, knees pressed against one another. Emma looked immensely nervous as she twisted the wedding band on her finger as Killian gingerly peeled away the red wrapping paper. Killian attributed her nervousness to the holiday. Since his death and subsequent resurrection, Emma had sought to make every holiday special, unable and unwilling to waste their second chance. Though it wasn’t their first Valentine’s Day as a couple, this was their first one together as husband and wife. Maybe her uncharacteristic wave of anxiety was a symptom of that desire.

 

Killian couldn’t be more wrong.

 

What lay in the box hadn’t been what he expected, and though it was presented as a Valentine’s gift, it was certainly much more than that. His fingers trembled as his lifted the printed image, the flecks of white, black, and grey reminding him of a long-ago conversation with Robin at the diner. He felt his heart constrict at the realization of just what Emma had given him.

 

“You’re with child.”

 

“Wha-yeah, yeah I am,” Emma seemed almost shocked at his recognition of the image she had given him, but collected herself quickly enough. Well, as quickly as one could be expected to after announcing a pregnancy. _Her_ pregnancy. With _his_ child. “So…good Valentine’s Day present?”

 

“It’s the most brilliant thing I’ve ever seen,” Killian replied in earnest, still unable to take his eyes away from the picture. Now he was able to understand why Robin was barely able to look away from the small image on his talking phone. “When were you able to procure this?”

 

“Well, I _procured_ the baby about eleven weeks ago, give or take,” Emma explained with a cheeky grin, “I didn’t even realize I was, you know, until about three weeks ago, and I got the scan about a week after that.”

 

“So you’ve been walking around knowing you’ve been carrying my child for almost a month before you told me?” Killian asked. He wasn’t upset exactly, though he did feel slightly put out that he could have had three extra weeks of knowledge of their child. _Their child._ They were going to have a child. His heart felt like it was about to jump out of his chest. “I suppose I will simply have to place extra effort into celebrating its existence.”

 

“Sorry, I would have told you sooner, but I thought the holiday would make for a decent surprise,” Emma winced apologetically. Killian had no real desire to make her feel guilty, and pulled her into his arms for a kiss.

 

“It is the perfect gift, both our child and the image,” he said after he pulled away, foreheads pressed together. “I cannot wait to show off our little pirate prince or princess.”

 

“So you’re happy?”

 

“Love, I’ve already told you, I’ve found my happy ending. It just so happens that it keeps getting happier.”

 

Emma grinned, “Good, because this is mine, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> *Quote directly pulled from Grey's Anatomy episode 8x24 'Flight'


End file.
